


Dear Jon

by AndyHood



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dear Jon, F/M, Hints of Sandor/Sansa, Letters, There's more - Freeform, don't know where I'm going with this, the wall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-01-31 12:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyHood/pseuds/AndyHood
Summary: While at the Wall, Jon starts to receive ravens from the last person he would expect.





	1. Chapter 1

The top of the Wall was the coldest thing that Jon had ever felt. But the view had a way to make one forget about the cold. It was where Sam found him.

“What news Sam?” asked Jon turning around to smile at his friend. A smile that dropped when he saw what was held in his friend’s hand.

“You received another one Jon,” Sam said holding out the small scroll for Jon. “It arrived dismorning.”

Jon quickly took the scroll from Sam and cracked the unadorned wax seal revealing the elegant familiar writing.

_Dear Jon,_

_How I wish that I could yell at my younger self to shut up. You were my brother, and it wasn’t until I lost everything that realized this. A stupid little girl with a head full of songs. I know now, the songs are wrong. Knights are not honorable. Joffrey has seen to that. Ser Meryn Trant had the joy of beating me once again. He enjoys it as much as Joffrey likes watching it. All these honorable knights, and a man who spits on their titles dares to try to curve Joffrey’s bloodlust.  My Non-Ser is probably the only true friend I have in this place. He watches out for me, councils me, and treats my wounds. The hands of a killer can be so gentle when they sew up my torn flesh. My Non-Ser always tells me at least Joffrey wants me pretty, I can easily hide the scars on my back and stomach with a dress._

_I hope the Night’s Watch is everything that you hoped for.  That you found honor and respect among your new brothers that I never gave you. I was a fool, a fool to allow Mother to fill my head that blood was the only way to base people on. I wish that this letter and all the others I have written could fly to the Wall so that I could tell you how truly sorry I am. How I wish that we could have grown close like Arya and you. Like we were those few weeks after Bran was born and Mother was too busy to stop us playing together. Robb occupied a lot of his time with Theon and my Septa was attending a sick Arya. You took the time to check on me, stealing Lemon Cakes for me and playing Knights and Princess’s. That was one of my most precious memories and I forgot it for a long time. Mother was furious when she found out, that was the first time I ever saw her strike someone. I was horrified, and then she struck you again and then a third. And I knew it was my fault. Mother locked me in my room for a week, kneeling in a corner while my Septa read from the book of the Seven and telling me the evils of bastards. I spent that week worrying for you, and when I was finally allowed out and saw the bruising on your face, I knew that I could never allow it to happen again. So I became by Mother in regards to how I treated you._

_I thought allowing the distance between us would protect us both. But it made our pack weaker. Arya could never forgive me because I treated you less, neither could Robb in his way. We should have been closer, never doubting one another. Because now I doubt. I wonder the reason why Robb has not traded the Kingslayer for me, nor has any attempt at rescue been made. Joffrey has made it perfectly clear during the last whipping that Robb cares so little. I would have been forced to watch him torture anyone that attempted to bring me home. But he hasn’t because there hasn’t been an attempt. If Arya was the one betrothed to the Prince, if she had been the one to write the note to Robb. Would he made an attempt? I know that you would have. For Arya you would have battled the entire Seven Kingdoms like Father did for his sister. But I am not Arya, I wrote a letter at the Queen’s demand, making myself a traitor to my family. I am not a true Stark, Mother trained the North out of me. Filled my heads with Knights with their painted armor, and songs. My wolf blood was never given a chance to grow and now I suffer for it. A little bird, trapped in a gilded cage, chirping pretty songs. Living every day in fear. Will today be the day Joffrey kills me? Will today be the day he finally rapes me? Will I need to be stitched up today? Will my ribs survive another punch by an armored gauntlet? Will my moon blood come and force my wedding to Joffrey soon? I think of these questions every morning when I wake up. I also wonder if this is how Father felt? Did he know he was going to die at the Capital, did he sense it in the Black Cells? I know I will die here, Joffrey will kill me. I pray to the Old Gods that it will be quick that I won’t suffer too much. But I know that he will want to play with me first._

_Before that happens, before there is nothing left of me. I must ask you once more for your forgiveness. Jon, my sweet brooding brother. Please forgive my cruel words and actions towards you. Forgive my stupidness. I should have told you that I loved you, that I still love you brother._

_I will ask one last thing brother. I ask that when you see Arya again, tell her that I am sorry for everything I did to her as well._

_Your loving sister,_

_Sansa._

Jon breathed a heavy sigh of frustration as he set the letter down. Every letter had the same vein, Sansa begging her forgiveness for the way she acted in the past. Deeply reflective, nothing like the shallow protected girl that he once knew.

He wanted nothing more than to shed his black cloak and soar down to King’s Landing to rescue his sister. To assure her that he loved her, he always has.  He longed to drive Longclaw into Joffrey’s chest, to watch the little boy king choke on his own blood. Sansa raised to be a Lady being beat with a sword by Knights. Talking about being stitched up like it was nothing, by a man not even a Maester.  Just who the hell was this Non-Ser she spoke of with fondness? This man who sounded like he had more honor than anyone else in the Red Keep.

He felt ashamed that Sansa felt as if she was being purposely left to fend for herself. Ashamed she felt that if she was Arya that Robb would be finding ways to get her. Jon couldn’t believe that Robb hadn’t tried to send anyone for her. Why hasn’t he did something?

“More bad news?” asked Sam from beside Jon.

“Aye,” Jon replied.  He handed the letter to Sam. Sam was the only one Jon had shared these letters with. Ever since the first one had arrived.

“I’m sorry Jon,” Sam said when he was done.

“Thanks Sam,” Jon said. “I just wish I could help her. Seven hells Sam, I can’t even write her back. I can’t offer her any comfort that she hasn’t been forgotten.”

Jon ran a hand through his curls. It was obvious that Sansa believed that these would never be sent. Yet someone seemed to have went behind her back and did it anyway.  His gut told him that it wasn’t Joffrey’s doing. Sansa sometimes said some treasonous things. Was it her Non-Ser, was he sending these letters.

Jon wished that he knew the answers. But there was nothing he could do but wait for the next letter to arrive and pray to the Old Gods that Sansa was rescued.


	2. Chapter 2

Sandor watched as the raven caught the draft of wind blowing in from the sea and soaring high in the air, getting lost in the clouds, carrying the seventh letter to the bastard on the Wall.

He wondered how he had gotten to this point, sending letters to Jon Snow of all people. Letters he himself did not even write, or know the contents of.

_A few weeks prior_

Sandor tossed another contents of a drawer onto the ground, not bothering to look at the mess that he created. Sandor had been ordered by the little cunt to search the Little Bird’s chamber for any sign of treason.

However Sandor knew that it was just another power play. Just another sign to the Little Bird that the cunt held the power and not even her room, her one place of sanctuary wasn’t even hers.

Sandor was half-heartedly looking around, giving the room an appearance of a thorough search. He knew that he wouldn’t find anything, the Little Bird had no friends in the capital and her things had been searched when they were moved from the Tower of the Hand. But Joffrey was expecting the room to looked sacked, so Sandor was doing just that.

He briefly looked at the hearth, if he put some soot on his hands and touched a few things it would add to the mummery. As he squatted down, his right knee bumped into the small pyramid of wood next to the hearth. The logs came cascading down and Sandor cursed. He reached down to pick up a piece when a piece of paper hidden under the bottom layer of logs caught his eye.

He picked up the last few logs and set them aside. It wasn’t just a single sheet of paper, but a whole bundle. Picking them up, he searched the words printed on them, curious of what the Little Bird had written that she was trying to hide.

_Dear Robb,_

_Why haven’t you come for me, why have you abandoned me?_

Sandor flicked to the next one, and the next. They were all letters, dozens of them. Some were addressed to her Mother, others to her brothers, and even a few to her sister. But overall the letters were addressed to Jon, the Stark bastard.

A noise from the corridor had Sandor shoving the papers under his breast plate and straightening before King Cunt came marching in, flanked by Trant and Boros.

The little shit looked approvingly at the mess that he had created with a smirk before focusing on Sandor.

“Dog! Did you find anything?!” he demanded.

“Nothing your Grace,” Sandor rasped out. The lie leaving a foul taste in his mouth but it was a small price to pay to make sure that the Little Bird did not receive another beating. She was barely recovered from the last one.

Joffrey was no longer afraid of causing scars on her skin, as long as it wasn’t her face. He had her beaten until blood ran freely down her back. Sandor had gotten it to stop, after an off-hand comment of traitors blood staining his white cloak. Joffrey had the beating stopped and commanded Sandor to take her back to her cage. As much as he wanted to scope her into his arms, he had been forced to make her stand on her feet and walk out of the throne room and knees that threatened to buckle with each step. Only when they were out of the King’s sight did Sandor scoop her up and bring her to her chambers, not caring that blood pooled like dark red wine across his cloak.

Sandor had tended to her. All her handmaidens long ago been sent away, a traitors daughter didn’t need to be attended to. Only the Imp’s whore was left, and she was not there most of the time. Sandor had been forced to hurt her, over and over again as he pierced her skin with a small needle, which was almost lost in his fingers, to sew some of the bigger wounds up.

“Shame, perhaps she is finally beginning to understand her lessons,” Joffrey said with a sneer as he ground his shoes into one of her dresses.

“Perhaps your Grace, but she is a stupid girl. I’m sure that she will be needing another lesson soon,” sneered Trant with evil smirk on his face.

Sandor had to physically stop himself from drawling his dagger and carving the smirk right off that face. He should have expected a man who beds girls who have not flowered to find pleasure in beating a defenseless girl.

“Correct you are Ser,” Joffrey agreed, his eyes lightening up with ideas of her next punishment. “I have no further need of you Dog.”

Sandor gave the boy a brief bow before excusing himself to his chambers. The stack of papers pressed heavy against his chest, almost like he could feel the weight of the words written upon them.

He barred the door to his chambers and quickly divested of his armor before sitting on his bed and picking up the letters to read what was upon them. There was so much love, heart break, and grief in the letters. He felt a pang of sadness as he read the tear stained letters to Catelyn Stark, describing Eddard’s death.

_He called himself a traitor to the crown. It was a lie, I know it was a lie. Father loved Robert. He did it for me, when they dragged him to the steps of Sept he looked at me with so much heartache. I tried to smile at him with assurance. I thought that Joffrey would spare him, that he would send Father to the Wall. I pleaded Joffrey on my knees to show Father mercy. When he took me to look at Father’s head, he said that this was merciful. If only I hadn’t told the Queen, it’s my fault that Father is dead._

Sandor didn’t want to read anymore, he laid the rest of them down. It seemed so wrong, to read them. Like he was looking into the Little Birds most intimate thoughts. If he read them, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to call her a stupid little girl anymore. Just that one piece of a letter was already changing his perspective of her again. It was safer for both of them if he continued to think her as a stupid girl, instead of a woman who grieved so much, who had been forced to mature so quickly through tragedy. Just like he did.

He didn’t want to see himself reflected in her eyes. Didn’t want to see the shattered dreams in her eyes. The betrayal of a family that was supposed to love you. The loneliness that followed them as they walked through this world.

He sighed as he once again looked down at the pile of letters. He should burn them, destroy them in case they ever fell into Joffrey’s hands. But a part of Sandor hesitated, the part that risked so much for the Little Bird. That part of him began to organize the letters by the names and dates that were written in neat handwriting on top of each page.

He set aside the ones addressed to the Young Wolf, Lady Catelyn, the Little Wolf, and the two boys. Three of them were considered dead, and he wouldn’t dare send the ones to the Young Wolf and their Mother. If a raven was found and brought the messages to the King, the Little Bird would be executed. But to the Wall, that was doable.

No one cared about a bastard at the Wall. No one south of the Neck cared about the Wall. And it would seem no one cared about the Little Bird south of the Neck either.

It was fitting really, to send the letters to the bastard.  The Young Wolf and Lady Catelyn didn’t seem to care about either child. He saw how the bastard was treated at Winterfell, and not one soul has ever been caught trying to steal Winterfell daughter.  The two Stark children almost seemingly forgotten would be two that Sandor strove to reconnect, at least from one side.

He took the first letter address to Jon and rolled it up and sealed it with a bit of wax. He then carefully stashed the letters under a loss board beneath his bed that he kept his money in. He then made his way to the Maester’s tower. Pycelle would be long gone from the raven tower, Sandor knew that these early evening hours were the old bastards favorite time to fuck whores. Which was confirmed as he snuck past the chambers and heard embellished moans from within. The woman seemed to be trying to earn extra coin, because no whore could ever find pleasure in that old cock.

Sandor was happy to see that the ravens were still sorted out by region, clearly labeled under their cages. The ravens trained for the Wall were older, neglected. Pycelle wouldn’t notice one missing, Sandor was certain. Taking the scroll he had sealed with plain wax he attached it to the best looking of them and set it off.

As he watched the raven fly into the sky, Sandor hoped one day Sansa would be able to fly away as well. Maybe one day she will be able to offer the bastard an apology to his face. For now he would shelter her as much as he dared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't know where this is going to go, but here's another chapter for you. Hope you enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I don't know quite where this fic is going, but it wouldn't leave me alone so here it is. Let me know what you think!


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